


of all the possible truths, they chose the day

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, the shadows came alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of all the possible truths, they chose the day

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Lisa, I am terribly sorry for being a terrible friend. This was supposed to be finished forever ago and it was supposed to rock your world, not end up as amateur trash that's too heavily influenced by my Zelda fic. Not to mention that the end result is far shorter than I would have liked. That said, I suck, but I love you very much, and hope that you can find at least a smidgen of this that you enjoy. Happy (belated) Birthday.
> 
> Two happy lovers make one bread,  
> a single moon drop in the grass.  
> Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;  
> waking, they leave one sun empty in their bed.
> 
> Of all the possible truths, they chose the day;  
> they held it, not with ropes but with an aroma.  
> They did not shred the peace; they did not shatter words;  
> their happiness is a transparent tower.
> 
> The air and wine accompany the lovers.  
> The night delights them with its joyous petals.  
> they have a right to all the carnations.
> 
> Two happy lovers, without an ending, with no death,  
> they are born, they die, many times while they live:  
> they have the eternal life of the Natural.  
> — Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

  
Once upon a time, the shadows came alive.  
  
Now, now, don't get too excited on me- because this is not your every day fairytale. In fact, it's not quite a fairytale at all. What this story is happens to be something that maybe you've seen before, and maybe you haven't.  
  
What this story is, is what happens when you mix a fairytale with a nightmare--- a happy ending with a tragic one.  
  
So listen carefully.  
  
.  
  
When the stars were new, the worlds quaking slowly to their feet- wobbly like a newborn colt, the shadows loved the world. The trees were fresh, the air still tasted of the crisp honey sweetness of the mountain spring- still smelled of the cloying flowers that spilled their first drops of nectar to the earth. The shadows loved it, because a shadow cannot exist without light, after all.  
  
They curled around their owners like affectionate felines, happy to be so close to the ones that they treasured the most.  
  
And then- then the shadows were forgotten.  
  
Years, the shadows waited. They waited and waited, hoping that their owners, their someone's would remember them. But it never happened. The people never remembered, and the shadows remained just that- shadows.  
  
Then the day came that they tired of waiting, leaping up off the ground, often times devouring their owner's very soul. In no time, the worlds were in disarray- cowering from the dark, letting flame encircle them so not one shadow could get through.  
  
That day that the shadows came alive, they were ecstatic. Drunk with their power and the gore of their somebody's dripping from their jaws, gristle stuck between slowly solidifying teeth, they paved the way across the worlds- ruling like tyrants.  
  
Soon, there were more shadows- more nobodies than there were somebodies. And those somebodies that did still breathe were kept in isolation, fearing the dark more than all else. They lit roaring fires, hid in the sunlight until the sun dipped below the horizon. The shadows, well, the light didn't quite like them. The light, the people thought, was upset at the shadows for tearing the worlds asunder- for it chased them away now, no longer allowing the shadows to bask in the heat.  
  
And then- something happened. Two shadows developed a distaste for the meat of mortals- a peculiar thing thumping away in their dark chests.  
  
The legends no longer exist because people feared them. They feared the shadows and all that they signified, but if you were to see a text on the matter, it would tell you that these two shadows devoured the others- that they realized that the somebodies were necessary, and made a pact with the light.  
  
The tales used to tell of these shadows, one with the power of fire and the other- the other wielding light itself, as if the mere idea of a shadow holding light in its palm wasn't completely ludicrous.  
  
The shadows that weren't devoured faded back, cowered at the heels of their somebodies boots rather than risk curling around them, even if it were to beg for forgiveness.  
  
So time passed, and the shadows became no more than a trick of the light beneath our feet, forgotten once more.  
  
But rumor- these legends of old have one more story to tell.  
  
The story of how those shadows linger in human guise, waiting and watching, protecting the somebodies in case their fellow shadows decide to rise up once more. Of how those shadows have hearts of their own, thumping away in their chests, still- after eons, unchanged by age. They are born, they die, many times while they live. No ending. No death.  
  
And now- now that the legends are but a whisper on the wind, save for what you're hearing now, now they're free to write their own stories, and are happy to do so.  
  
.  
  
It's something of an impossibility- their lives that is. Not that Axel doesn't appreciate it, because if anyone's thankful for being alive, it's Axel. It's just- it isn't normal to still be going, living day in and day out, rinse and repeat.  
  
Repetitive though it is, he likes the way that Roxas curls his hands over his- how the roses always look glorious, no matter the decade. He likes how the sun doesn't burn- how it licks at Roxas' curls, pushing UV rays into his hands as if to say, 'I'm here, I'm here- you're a part of me.'  
  
That's a thing that the legends never quite got right. It wasn't so much power as it was something that slipped inside of them, right next to their new hearts and lungs and vocal cords. Roxas was as much light as Axel was fire, as they were both still at least somewhat shadow.  
  
They get an apartment just outside of a large city, because Roxas likes to play at normalcy every once and awhile. He goes out to get jobs, works, and even studies sometimes- making Axel do the same more often than not. And when they get home in the evening, they chase each other into the woods, setting themselves on fire- like two phoenixes, rebirth and reverse, like they need to die in order to live.  
  
Axel thrives on it. The fire playing over his skin is like cool water to lesser people, refreshing- like he's gone weeks without a drink and is then given a spring.  
  
Roxas mostly just lets the heat play over him, because firelight is still light and though he gets his refreshers every time the sun is shining, he enjoys Axel's light, like it's something very specific that he doesn't so much _need_ as he _craves._  
  
When they were younger, before the years and years and years that they had to dwell on their existence, Roxas used to say that watching Axel play was like watching their first sunrise. And to a certain extent, it's still like that. Roxas watches him the same way that Axel watches Roxas, because even now, the idea of having a heart is still like a dream they're going to wake up from any moment, trembling and terrified and _hungry_ for the hearts that don't belong to them.  
  
.  
  
Still, the improbability that is their lives doesn't come without it's own set of complications.  
  
.  
  
For example-  
  
.  
  
They're too close to the city.  
  
.  
  
Someone will notice.  
  
.  
  
Roxas graduates from college for the seventh time, this time with a shiny new degree that declares his major that of the stars.  
  
Axel laughs. It is, after all, funny.  
  
(It's the closest they will get to them.)  
  
.  
  
Years pass.  
  
.  
  
Someone notices.  
  
.  
  
In the spring, they move again. This time to a small cottage on the shore of the sea.  
  
And it is like something out of a fairytale- Hansel and Gretel finding that little cottage in the woods, sturdy wood and smoke coming from the chimney. A homey little place, hardly indicative of what lives in its belly.  
  
(In the spring, Roxas takes up jogging. The sand slipping into his shoes and the sun warming the back of his neck. When Axel asks why he does it, Roxas smiles and tells him that it's just because he can.)  
  
.  
  
Axel meets someone. A man with hair as bright as his own and a smile that tilts sharply at the corners. The man's name is Reno, and he spends his nights working for an agency that specializes in taking people out quietly.  
  
When Axel introduces him to Roxas, Reno smiles at him- cutting and vicious and beckons him close. When Roxas obliges, Reno leans in close- whispers something in his ear.  
  
_("Want to know a secret?_  
  
"I'm not exactly the quiet type.")  
  
.  
  
They keep him.  
  
.  
  
For a little while at least.  
  
Reno is loud and exuberant and likes blowing things up almost as much as he likes slipping into the shower with them.  
  
He doesn't like their cottage much- wishes that they'd move somewhere that isn't quite as damned cold in the winter. A place where his pale skin doesn't flush and peel when he stays out with Roxas on the beach for too long. A place that isn't quite so secluded.  
  
Reno is- well, Reno is human. He caters to Roxas' love of normalcy and Axel's love of beautiful things.  
  
At night, when he's sleeping between them, they like to press their ears to his chest and listen- try to see if the beats of his heart are any different than their own.  
  
They aren't, of course. It's the same rhythm, the same hazy staccato beat that they will never stop noticing within their own chests.  
  
.  
  
A year passes. Then another. And another. _And another and another and another-_ \--  
  
.  
  
Eventually though, they have to either tell him something or cut him loose. It's all fun and games until your lover realizes that you don't have laugh lines to match.  
  
.  
  
They show him- lead him out into the dew damp morning, the waves swiping lazily at their feet. Roxas doesn't quite glow- it's not like that. He sees things differently, manipulates it all, but there's nothing really to _show_ for it. Not without Axel at least.  
  
Reno laughs at them- calls them ridiculous and whines about how it's too early for this melodramatic bullshit.  
  
Dawn breaks and the first tendrils of flame sweep over Axel's skin, catching- igniting. When Roxas threads his fingers through Axel's, the fire spreads.  
  
They burn.  
  
Reno isn't laughing anymore.  
  
.  
  
He thinks it's amazing, of course. Axel thinks that he's a bit put out that there's something he can never share with them, but it's nice, having someone know about them.  
  
.  
  
Time creeps sluggishly onward.  
  
Reno starts developing those laugh lines.  
  
.  
  
If anyone asked them, they would probably admit to loving Reno. They did, after all-- though probably not as much as he loved them.  
  
Why else would he be willing to die at their side?  
  
.  
  
The cottage is quiet, in his absence. The wind whistles, the sea roars.  
  
Too quiet.  
  
They should be leaving soon.  
  
(Someone might notice.)  
  
.  
  
Their last winter there comes with harsh seaside winds, frigid air that seeps through the age worn cracks in the cottage's armor.  
  
It is still too quiet.  
  
They curl close together, and set themselves on fire.


End file.
